Fortune and Folk Tales
by Blue-Inked Frost
Summary: Tiny Minsc tells a story in return for a hamster, and a gnome fortune teller reads both his and Dynaheir's palms.


"Once upon a time, there was a handsome young barbarian who fought for the Nice Hippogriff Berserker Lodge. He was tall and broad and sound of limb, with a ruddy countenance of milk and blood. So beautiful was he that his parents and the tribe decreed that, to avoid bloodshed over who should wed him, he would stay at the top of a mountain made of glass. There the handsome young barbarian would wait and watch, eating the golden apples that grew only at the top of the glass mountain, until the strongest hero should overcome the obstacles and claim his hand as their prize.

"Every morning, a great eagle with iron feathers flew down to the glass mountain, in order to eat its share of the golden apples. Every evening, a great lion on the mountain would eat the honey made by the bees that fed on the golden apples, and then go to sleep. Both the eagle and the lion befriended the barbarian, and acted as his guardians.

"In the barbarian's home village there lived a nice blacksmith, who was likewise strong and lofty and hale, with milk and blood in her cheeks. Her name was Korshun Chorny, or Kor for short. She was named after the black kite that rules the skies. She was born to a family of acrobats, and learnt how to swing on a trapeze before she could walk. But when the blacksmith was sixteen she landed on the ground, for she had learnt to love ground and fire and hot iron even more than she loved the circus, and mastered her craft within three years of apprenticeship.

"The blacksmith had a magical boarhound that she raised from a puppy. Just as her acrobat parents had taught her to walk on air, the puppy's feet never touched the ground from the time it was born. Instead, it walked across the ceiling on a network of ropes. Every morning, the blacksmith carried the puppy in her own two hands down to the stream to drink. And every day, the puppy grew strong, until he was a full grown dog weighing twenty poods and the blacksmith had to weave him nets of iron to walk on. Over the time of the blacksmith carrying him down to the stream each day, she too grew strong enough to lift him.

"Then a Witch came to the village. Her name was Ogun Spark-Eyed, and she was one of the very youngest hathran to pass all her tests and finish her dajemma, a marvellous quest to find the Lost Green Flame of Azimuth. She had heard about the handsome barbarian and wished to attempt the quest, so first she went to the blacksmith to ask for supplies.

"She gave the blacksmith three casks of the finest olives and one cask of silver in payment, and received a fine steel net of tight-woven mesh, soft as light and stronger than adamant. Then with her equipment the Witch climbed the glass mountain. No, she did not have to climb it, for she was a Witch. She cast a flying spell, and in only a minute she was on top of the glass mountain by the golden trees. She was a clever Witch, and made herself invisible. For two days, she watched the eagle come to the golden apples each day and eat its fill, and learnt where the eagle always alighted. On the third day, the Witch crept out of hiding, flung the net over the eagle, and held the eagle in place no matter how it struggled. She grasped the net in both hands and took the eagle to the barbarian.

"'You have defeated me,' the eagle said. 'I will reward you. I know where the Library at the End of the World is. In the library, you will find all the magical knowledge you could ever dream of. To find the library, you must wear down nine pairs of iron shoes to nothing, break nine iron spears against monsters, change the course of a river, and save three places from falling to darkness.'

"'Then I will take that quest,' said Ogun, 'for I have always dreamt of the Library at the End of the World. My life is a hard one, but not without its rewards. I struggle each day to better myself and do the good I can in the world, and I wish for more and greater challenges each day. Boredom is my worst fear. I live an intense life of strife and labour, and thrive from my love for magic.'

"And Ogun Spark-Eyed knelt in front of the handsome barbarian and offered him her hand in marriage and to ride together on the eagle's back to seek the Library at the End of the World.

"'No thank you,' the handsome barbarian said, 'for I desire a somewhat quieter life.'

"So Ogun Spark-Eyed the Witch stood up, wrapped up the net so tightly that it could have fit through a ring, and mounted on the eagle's back. And she and the Eagle flew to the quest of the Library at the End of the World, and I hope that she found a lot of books there.

"Nine days after the Witch had come, a warrior called Lenivy Barrel-Chest came to the blacksmith's door, a talented warrior twice as broad as he was tall. This warrior was mother-nephew to the Iron Lord himself. Lenivy asked the blacksmith to make him an iron saddle that not even the strongest horse could break, and gave the blacksmith three casks of pear cider and one cask of gold in payment.

"Lenivy Barrel-Chest knew that to climb the glass mountain would be bothersome, so he sought out a powerful horse to do that for him. He went down to the ocean, where the flock belonging to the King of the Sea come out of the water each morning to flick their manes against the light and run up and down the beach. Some friendly Witch had told the warrior enough to choose not the biggest horse, nor the most beautiful horse, but rather the weak lame colt that was slowest to run back to the waves. The warrior snuck up to the weak lame colt of the sea, placed the iron saddle on his back, and clung onto the sea-horse's for two full days.

"After two days and two nights, the sea-horse was accustomed to living on land and turned into the finest stallion you ever saw, with a golden coat like the sun and a deep fire hiding in its brown eyes. Lenivy saw the horse was his, so he drank another cask of pear cider and slept for three days before he would venture up the mountain.

"The stallion climbed the glass mountain with ease, bearing the Iron Lord's mother-nephew on his back. Lenivy the warrior soon came upon the honeycomb within the golden apple trees that the lion ate every day, and helped himself richly to the sweet honey. Then the lion came upon him.

"Lenivy Barrel-Chest and the lion wrestled each other for the honey, and both their strengths were almost the same. First Lenivy should rise on top and the lion beneath, then the lion would turn and roar into Lenivy's face while Lenivy lay beneath. They fought for three days. Then Lenivy let loose a mighty yawn.

"'Friend lion,' said Lenivy, 'why do we fight? For I have honey in my saddlebag from my uncle's hives, and since he is the Iron Lord it is quite good honey.'

"Lenivy repaid the lion the honey he had taken, and the two shared honeycomb in peace, while the stallion contentedly munched on grass. Then the handsome barbarian stumbled upon Lenivy lying there.

"Lenivy was too tired to get to his knees and make a formal proposal, so he simply asked the handsome barbarian if they should like to wed as soon as he had had some sleep. The barbarian considered him. 'What would be your ideal life?' the barbarian asked Lenivy Barrel-Chest.

"'Much like it is now,' Lenivy said, and yawned mightily, resting in the golden ripples of the lion's fur. The lion also yawned. 'To fight in moderation; to sup and carouse mightily; and to enjoy honey and rest when possible, for it is not good for man to strive too much.'

"'Then no thank you,' said the handsome barbarian, 'for I desire a somewhat more active life.'

"So Lenivy Barrel-Chest mounted his mighty stallion once more, and he and the lion and the horse departed together to seek out intermittent fighting and comfortable dens.

"The handsome barbarian waited on the glass mountain, eating golden apples and wondering when his true love should finally come to claim his hand. He missed the eagle and the lion, and hoped that his true love would like pets too.

"Back in the village, the nice blacksmith had a lot of work to do. She had to sharpen spears and swords, shoe horses, mend gates, supply the farms, and keep the town safe and secure from the Thayvian invasions. She worked steadily and surely, completing her tasks, while her great magical boarhound balanced himself on the wires above her.

"When she was done with her work, the nice blacksmith carried her boarhound as usual to the stream to drink. But this time, she set the boarhound down on the path to the glass mountain, and for the first time in his life, his paws touched the ground. Because the boarhound had spent his life in the air, he was incredibly nimble. The giant magical boarhound walked up the glass mountain and the nice blacksmith walked beside him, her hand on his shoulder to guide her.

"After a day of walking up the glass mountain, the nice blacksmith reached the golden apple orchard. There she met the handsome barbarian, who was eating an apple and staring into the sky.

"'Why, Kor,' the barbarian said, for after all he and the nice blacksmith were from the same village, and knew each other very well. 'I am glad to see you. What brings you here?'

"'I thought you might be lonely,' Kor said. 'Would you care for some fine olives and pear cider?'

"'Would you like a golden apple?' the barbarian offered the blacksmith. And she freely shared the olives the Witch had paid and the cider the warrior had paid, and in return, the barbarian gave her golden apples. As they ate, the barbarian petted the giant magical boarhound and scratched his stomach.

"'What will you do when you get back to the village, Kor?' asked the barbarian.

"'The harvests are coming in, and with them scythes and rakes and ploughs for the mending and making. When my work is done then I will brew cider and dance at the harvest-feasts, and roast apples on the fire,' said the blacksmith. 'For I love both my craft and the world around me.'

"'I would dance with you at the harvest festival, if you also wish it,' said the barbarian.

"And so the handsome barbarian and the nice blacksmith and the giant magical boarhound walked back down the mountain together. And they were married the next day and had a son two days later and lived happily ever after. And that is the end of the story."

The little gap-toothed boy looked eagerly up at the gnome. Although most human boys of his age would be taller than a gnome, he was tiny and pale. "Was it a good story?" he asked anxiously. The older girl beside him gave a slightly rueful smile.

"I don't think that was _exactly_ how thy parents courted, Minsc," Dynaheir said.

"But is it good enough to pay for the miniature giant space hamster? Please?" Minsc begged.

"Well, for a wonderful story like that, I would give you a horde of hamsters, but something tells me that you only need one." The gnome handed Minsc a small cage and patted him on the head. "His name is Boo. Take good care of him."

"There is _no such thing_ as a _miniature giant_ ..." Dynaheir began, but she broke off when Minsc started to talk excitedly about how he would take care of the hamster at home. There was a grin on his face as wide and clear as the summer sky, and he gently stroked the hamster's soft coat.

"Surely you cannot accuse me of unfair commercial practices, young lady?" the gnome fortune-teller said with innocence. "A story is the most valuable thing in the world, yet also one of the most intangible. I see you have an interest in the magical arts and a great deal of self-confidence. You are likely an only child."

"I have lately started to study divination myself," Dynaheir said. "Your cold reading impresses me not in the least. I have an interest in the magical arts because I wove my bracelet in evocation sigils. I am an only child because I am looking after young Minsc rather than brothers or sisters. For the record, Minsc is my cousin."

"Brave Dynaheir appointed herself my faithful myrmidon protector! She is my second cousin once removed, you see," the small boy explained earnestly. "When her mother and father asked her to accompany me to the fair, not once but twice did she boldly roll her eyes and toss her head and groan with heroic responsibility! Noble and gallant indeed was the tone in which she uttered, 'Oh, all right, if I must.'"

Dynaheir bit her lip and scraped her right foot back and forth in slight embarrassment. "Come, Minsc. 'Tis time for us to depart."

"But he is a gnome fortune-teller and he can do a _palm reading_!" Minsc pleaded.

"And what is the cost for a palm reading?" Dynaheir asked. "I have but five copper and perhaps thou would prefer roast chestnuts, or a spinning-top, or another treat from the fair that will be longer lasting and more factual. Come, Minsc."

"I will perform a reading for both of you in return for another story," the gnome fortune-teller offered.

"Oh, yes, Dynaheir, do let's!" Minsc cheered. "I have _the best_ story."

"Another best story?" she muttered.

"It's a story about both of us, in return for a palm reading for both of us," Minsc began.

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Minsc and a big strong girl named Dynaheir. Dynaheir loved to read more than anything else in the world, so one day, when both their parents were away, she read a heavy book under the tree and became lost to the world.

"Then the boy wandered down to play in the valley and eat from a bag of raisins. A group of boys were already there, playing tag. They were sad that Minsc had sweet raisins and they had none, so they asked him for raisins. But instead of only taking some, they took the whole bag.

"The boy was angry, so they called him a puny little tadpole. Then they started to hit him, and he could not fight back. Though Minsc knew it was not manly to cry, he started to cry.

"And then down from the high slope rushed Dynaheir with the battle-light in her eyes! She punched the biggest boy in the head, though he was even bigger than her. She bit the second biggest on the arm, and kicked the third biggest in ... well, in the lower stomach, to be polite. Then she went for the fourth boy, but by then, they had all had enough and ran away.

"But the little boy was even more miserable that he had been saved, for it meant that he could not fight for himself. So he ran away from his protector, hid in the long grasses, and went down to the river to be alone, even though many a time he was told to never go there.

"The little boy found the river, thickly grown with willow trees and sphagnum moss. The river was wide and deep, flowing crisp and clear with the melting icebergs of spring. The river flowed so swiftly that white peaks showed on its surface, and any reflections of the birds that flew above it were shattered into a blur. The boy sat on dark green moss and soft mud and looked into the water and talked to the flowing river.

"And then the river talked back. A beautiful lady, her hair dripping with green water-weeds and her skin green as a leaf on a rosebush, rose out of the water and seated herself beside the little boy on the bank.

"'Why do you weep?' she asked.

"'Because people are mean to me and I can't fight back,' he sobbed.

"'Then come to my underwater kingdom,' said the beautiful lady. 'There I will feed you on king crabs and sunfish and you will sit with me on my limestone throne.'

"'The boy wiped his eyes and nose, then reached out and touched the lady's beautiful seaweed hair. And the moment that he did so, the beautiful lady turned into a gigantic six-legged horse. Its body was the colour of mud and its stench was like crab-meat left inside its shell in the sun. Skin and flesh sloughed off its body like the fermented herring left to rot for six months. Its eyes were made of evil green fire like copper in the rain and its teeth were sharp and cracked like rusty nails. Her seaweed hair became the tail of the frightful horse, and it was coated with black tar that stuck to the boy's hands like glue. The terrible river-monster began to drag the boy into the water.

"'Thou shalt not steal him, foul creature!' came a cry from the bank. Dynaheir ran down like a horde of wild mares streaming across the grass plains, like a stampede of mighty antelopes in the desert, like a company of battle elephants upon an ancient capital city. All she had in her hand was the book she had been reading.

"She leapt down onto the ugly water-horse and hit it over the head with her book. Then she hit it again. The horse whinnied and squealed. It tried to trample her with iron hooves, but she fended away the heavy hooves with the thick book. She hit it a third time on top of its skull.

"The horse turned tail and started to go back into the water. But Minsc was still stuck to the horse's tail as if with glue! The horse would soon drag him into the river, and then he should be heard of no more.

"Dynaheir screamed. Then, out of the rage and conflagration inside her, she summoned the fire that lay within her into the world! From Dynaheir's fingers burst magic, three magical missiles of a searing red and golden flame. She burnt the evil water-horse's tail and so severed it from Minsc's fingers. The horse disappeared into the river.

"Before this, Dynaheir had no knowledge that she had magic, so this was the beginning of her destiny as a future Witch. But she had no thought of that just then, only her cousin. She picked Minsc up and took him home piggy-back, even leaving the book behind so that she could carry him. There, she rinsed off the black tar and sticky water-horse hair from his hands with lavender and lemon and sage and soaproot, and dressed and bathed his wounds tenderly.

"And from that day forward, she watched Minsc like a hawk when they were together, even though he should probably be growing up by now," Minsc finished. "Can we have the palm reading?"

"Come into my tent, young ones," said the gnome fortune-teller.

The tent was full of thick incense and smoke from thin candles, set less than a handspan apart around the thick horsehair walls. It was impossible to see through the smoke and almost impossible to breathe in the stuffy, perfumed heat. Velvet cushions in many colours covered the tent floor and three stools were placed around a simple wooden table at gnome's height.

The fortune-teller studied Minsc's palm first, and for quite a long time said nothing.

"Is everything all right?" Minsc asked. "There was only one thing I really truly wanted to know ..."

"But it looks like you will know many things in many journeys," the fortune-teller said, but Minsc seemed to barely hear him.

"I want to know will I ever be big and tall! I want to, so badly," Minsc said. "I want to join the Ice Dragon Berserker Lodge when I grow up! But if I stay small and puny, then I will never ..." His face fell terribly at the thought.

"Let me ask you a question, young one," said the fortune-teller. "Are your parents big and tall?"

"Yes, both of them," Minsc said.

"Then wait, and you will be big and tall someday," said the fortune-teller.

The gnome turned to Dynaheir, who had not extended her palm across the table at all. "My destiny is part in my control and part removed from it," Dynaheir said, "but I doubt that thou know where I will journey. I seek to become hathran, a Witch, defending and aiding my people, and where I choose my fate I will not be found wanting."

The gnome studied her face. "I will not say you are wrong to doubt and rebel, for a fiery and questioning spirit is much needed. Hot pepper is a finer taste than weak phlegm. And yet I will say that you are wrong to refuse to so much as listen."

Dynaheir bit her lip. Eventually, she straightened her shoulders and bowed her head. "Thou art my elder, and perhaps I should have shown more respect. Here is my palm, and with it comes a thanks for the great kindness thou hast shown my little cousin."

The gnome studied it for far longer than he had Minsc's hand. He returned Dynaheir's hand without a single word, his head still bowed low over his table.

"Will thou say at least something?" she asked him.

The gnome fortune-teller faced her, their heads of the same height when seated. His thick eyebrows moved down toward his nose, and the outer corner of both his eyes seemed to droop. "I will say this to thee. Your courage and your insight are your treasures, but higher than they will be the love of friends. When called to sacrifice for those you love, you will carry out your task with a straight back and fire in your eyes, and you will regret none of it.

"One day, the protected shall become the protector, and do more than you will ever know," he finished.

"Thank you very much, Gnome Fortune-Teller!" Minsc grasped Dynaheir's hand. "Goodbye now. Dynaheir, can we get those roast chestnuts now? Please, please please?"

"As thou wish, Minsc."

The small, puny boy walked out into the sunshine, hand in hand with his protector Dynaheir, carrying his hamster in his hands. Someday, he told Boo, they would be great heroes indeed.

—

Written for Liethe for Yuletide 2017.


End file.
